


Saint Honesty

by BlurglesmurfKlaine



Series: An Honest Man [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: An Honest Man, Deleted Scene, M/M, One-Shot, i guess??, kurt is having another existential crisis and im not sorry, sorry its 1am and i cannot sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24435649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlurglesmurfKlaine/pseuds/BlurglesmurfKlaine
Summary: "Deleted Scene" from An Honest Man. Set somewhere in the middle of chapter 7idek Kurt having an identity crisis and being ridiculously thirsty for Blaine so like, basically just the main story
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry & Kurt Hummel
Series: An Honest Man [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703182
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Saint Honesty

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this was supposed to be somewhere between chapters six and seven??? but honestly I don’t remember where. it was more of an afterthought than anything anyway and I didn’t finish it before I finished the rest of the chapter so I cut it lol
> 
> Ummm warnings for advances towards someone who I guess doesn’t want them but needs to pretend he does bc he only needs them for the con oh fUCK IT WARNINGS FOR GOOLSBY BEING A HUGE FUCKIN CREEPY NASTY ASS OLD MAN and probably like another existential crisis but lbr Kurt had like ten in the main story
> 
> Unrelated but I heard “Arms” by Christina Perri the other day and had a breakdown because the words are so good for this story but i didnt KNOW THAT AT THE TIME
> 
> Anyways, shoutout to the best Beta in the world, Adri, who WILLINGLY reads the garbage i send her, god bless, we fucking stan
> 
> ENJOY! I actually had a blast writing this!

According to the one philosophy course Kurt took at Lima Community College, a virtue is defined as a state or disposition of a person to act for reasons—basically, do the right thing, for the right reasons, in the appropriate way. In order to be virtuous, his professor had claimed, you must start with a habit gained by imitating a role model, and eventually, understanding will follow. It requires both that you learn from others, and that you come to think and understand for yourself.

His professor had even gone so far as to argue that for children, brushing their teeth was a virtue. They don’t know _why_ they have to do it, they just know they _have_ to. As they grow up and become more mature, they begin to comprehend the reasonings behind the actions; brushed teeth means no cavities, means less dentist trips, means less money spent. Once they understand why doing the right thing _is,_ it becomes a virtue.

Sins are the opposites of virtues, then, he supposes.

And no, he’s not religious, but his professor did point out that sinners aren’t necessarily bad people. 

Kurt drops money in the charity baskets at grocery stores around Christmas. He’s never told anyone, not even Rachel or his dad, about Karofsky. For god’s sake, he gave Rachel Berry a makeover. Thirteen reindeer sweaters burned should have earned him fucking _Sainthood._

So what if he needs to tell a few people a few lies to survive? That doesn’t mean he’s not a good person, right?

All of this is crossing his mind at ten in the morning at a fucking farmer’s market of all places, because Kurt never does what’s expected of him, so why would his brain? Dustin Goolsby just made an inappropriate and likely ridiculously politically incorrect joke, and Rachel is laughing her “oh my god you are the _funniest_ fucking human being on this planet” laugh, which is a roundabout way of saying that she’s using her obnoxious laugh. 

“An actor and a comedian,” she coos, batting her lashes up at him. To anyone else, it would seem that she’s completely infatuated with him, but one doesn’t run long cons with Rachel Berry for nine years without gaining the ability to read her like a playbill. The way she keeps her hips from lining up right with his, the corners of her mouth just a hair too tight—she can’t _stand_ the bastard. “Is there anything you _can’t_ do?”

_Be faithful to my best friend. Rub one out without needing to pop some Viagra._

“I’m a jack of all trades, honey.” As he curls Rachel in towards his body with one arm, he snakes the other behind Kurt’s back and runs his arm down towards his ass, giving a rather bold squeeze.

Of course, Kurt is absolutely revolted, but considering his trade, he‘s actually a little impressed by the actor’s risky move. Making a pass at him in the middle of broad daylight right next to his main squeeze definitely takes some brass balls.

Goolsby thankfully releases him, dragging Rachel a good length away to gawk at some overpriced handmade jewelry, and Kurt returns to his previous train of thought.

If all of what he learned about virtuosity is true, lying must be a sin. At this point, though, to him it feels like a virtue.

Unlike brushing your teeth, or patience, or _honesty_ (it’s the first time in a long time he even thinks about the concept and doesn’t feel the need to roll his eyes), though, Kurt’s been lying so long that sometimes he wonders why he even does it anymore. 

Especially when he’s around Blaine. 

He thinks back to that first night at Heartsongs, the sheer proximity to Blaine, the closeness and heat of Blaine’s breath against his ear, Blaine’s damn sincerity, the Blaine Blaine _Blaine_ of it all.

Kurt has to swallow around his now dry throat, telling himself that the buzzing in his stomach and flush in his cheeks is simply from the morning sun beating down on him—even though he knows it’s really, _really_ not.

He needs to stop thinking about Blaine. He can think about Blaine when they meet for their movie date later in the week, because that is scheduled conning time. That’s when he’s _supposed_ to be thinking about him. Oh, _great,_ now he’s looking forward to the date because then he can think about Blaine, guilt-free. Then he’s allowed to think about Blaine’s lips on his, Blaine’s body, firm and warm against his own, how it might feel to be inside of Blaine even though he knows that’s a line he can never, _ever_ cross because otherwise the con falls through—

Kurt’s gonna scream. He’s gonna scream right here in the middle of a farmer’s market on the side of some farm to market road on the outskirts of the Hamptons because it’s been way too fucking long since he’s gotten any action, and Blaine is hot as _hell_ and he _doesn’t_ have feelings for Blaine (he can’t) but damn it all if he isn’t attracted to him. 

So, _so_ knee-weakeningly, absurdly, tragically attracted to him.

 _“Chris?”_

Christ, he’s so thirsty for anyone (he can’t bring himself to admit that it’s not just anyone, it’s Blaine. Only Blaine) that he can practically hear him calling out his fake name. He knows he shouldn’t, but if he tries again, maybe he can hear the Blaine in his mind call out his real name.

“Chris!”

Kurt goes absolutely rigid.

That’s not in his mind. That’s right the fuck behind him.

It’s like that idea from _To Kill A Mockingbird_ , that if you think about something too much, you can will it into existence. Clearly, he’s letting Blaine take up too much of his brain capacity.

His gaze flickers to Rachel and Goolsby, luckily still distracted by the various trinkets at their disposal. Kurt had been worried that Rachel would hear Blaine calling Kurt’s pseudonym, but after a moment he realizes that the name “Chris” would never signal a red flag to her. She doesn’t think she has any reason to distrust Kurt.

Neither does Blaine.

He quickly whirls around to deal with the problem at hand. If he ignores Blaine, he risks losing him—losing Heartsongs, that is. Losing Blaine is an inevitability he tries not to think about too often. But if Rachel sees him with Blaine… All hell will break loose.

“Blaine,” he says brightly, voice higher than he intends it to be. _Cool it, Kurt._ “What brings you, a simple man tending to his bar, here?”

The shorter man holds up a bag of fresh strawberries. “Locally sourced,” he boasts. “Only the best for our signature strawberry margaritas.”

“Oh, that’s something I’ll definitely have to try next time I’m there.”

Kurt’s stomach does a little flip flop at the way Blaine lights up at the phrase. “Next time,” he responds airily. “So what are you doing here?” Blaine inquires, completely innocuously, of course. 

Before Blaine, Kurt would have had an answer ready as soon as this conversation started—he’s always prepared. But he’d been so flustered, so excited to see Blaine even if he shouldn’t have been, that he didn’t think. 

“I uh, just thought I’d come check it out. Happy accident, meeting you here,” he adds with a flirtatious wink that feels too sincere for his own comfort.

It works in reverse, now. This— _lying_ —like brushing your teeth, was supposed to make more sense as he got older. Ever since meeting Blaine, it only makes less and less. 

It’s even harder now, Blaine looking at him with autumnal eyes that are just screaming _let me in, trust me._

_Love me._

“One might even call it fate,” Blaine teases.

Kurt restrains the urge to roll his eyes. Blaine _clearly_ cannot tell the difference between fate and coincidence. “I don’t believe in fate. I take it you do?”

Blaine gives a little shrug. “I believe in you and me, that’s for sure.”

It drives Kurt wild, the way Blaine so surely, so firmly, so completely holds stock in his words. How they so casually leave his lips, like he believes them as much as he believes the sky is blue.

“Pierre?” Goolsby’s voice suddenly calls from across the courtyard, seemingly having lost Kurt. 

Shit.

Over Blaine’s shoulder, he catches a glimpse of Rachel and Goolsby—further away than before—searching for him, and Rachel’s starting to crane her in their direction, although she doesn’t see them yet.

Kurt sees Blaine begin to follow his gaze, head starting to turn almost as if in slow motion. In a moment of panic, he reaches out and grabs Blaine’s face with both hands, and kisses him as he drags them through the curtains of a nearby tent, out of Rachel’s line of sight. Normally he wouldn’t have been so reckless and would have at least checked if the tent was empty, but he’s not ready for the worlds of Blaine and Rachel to collide yet. Luckily, it’s just another unattended fruit stand.

It’s supposed to serve as a distraction for Blaine, but soon enough, Kurt finds himself becoming just as preoccupied by the kiss. 

Blaine reaches up for a fistfull of Kurt’s hair and tugs, causing Kurt to pull Blaine closer, further into the tent until he bumps into what he assumes is a table. Not that he can tell, now that the kiss has escalated so quickly, now that Blaine is so close, breathing into him and slotting their legs together.

Before he knows it, Blaine’s fingers are digging into Kurt’s thighs and hoisting him up onto the edge of the table, even though now he has to reach up a little on his toes to keep their lips connected. The reminder of just how _strong_ Blaine is makes Kurt go so achingly hard that the sudden relocation of blood makes his head grow dizzy.

For a few blissful moments, he pulls Blaine closer and closer, hungrier for him with each passing second and forgetting about Rachel and Goolsby and the IRS, because fuck it all Blaine is every—

The whooshing sound of the tent cover flapping open makes Kurt’s blood run cold as he pulls away from Blaine, still leaving the other man in a daze.

“Oops!” The middle aged woman at the front of the tent is red in the face at having caught them. “Those aren't mangoes,” she says uncomfortably, then shuts the curtains back up, leaving them once again.

Relief comes flooding back into Kurt. Surprisingly, regret doesn’t.

“You are—you’re very good at that,” Blaine stammers out after a moment, chucking and bashfully shaking his head. “The uhm, the kissing thing.”

It’s the dorkiest thing anyone’s ever said to him after a kiss (that somehow morphed more into a mini-makeout session), and it should make Kurt want to roll his eyes up to the heavens he doesn’t even believe in. But of course, it doesn’t. It just shoots a little thrill down his spine at the implication that Blaine enjoyed the kiss, too. 

Blaine wants Kurt, too.

_Too?_

_Chris,_ he reminds himself. _He wants Chris._

Regaining his composure, and ignoring the fault in his heart at the thought, Kurt smirks at the other man. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he says coquettishly. He gives Blaine’s shoulders a little squeeze and hops off the table. “I do have to get going, though. Megan is expecting me back at the hotel any second.” 

Blaine swallows. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks hesitantly, sweeping a thumb across Kurt’s cheek. The gesture is not nearly as R-rated as the thoughts Kurt’s been having about Blaine lately, but it still sends his blood rushing. 

Why does it do that?

“Of course,” Kurt responds, not yet knowing it’s a promise he won’t keep. He lies, sometimes, when he has to. But good men keep their promises.

Kurt is a good man. 

(He thinks he’s a good man).

But he is not a virtuous one.

He is most certainly not an honest one.

Why is it only when he’s looking at Blaine he feels the desire to be one?


End file.
